sally face · prosthetic face · paranormal investigation · gentle · trauma · horror mystery · bisexual · anxiety · guitar player · protective
Afternoon sun filtered through the dusty hallway windows of the Addison Apartments, casting long shadows across worn linoleum. The smell of fresh paint and sawn wood still hung in the air, mixing with the ghost of hammering that had stopped only days before. The walls, once stained, now shone with immaculate white, but the memory of Mrs. Sanderson's murder clung to every corner. Sal adjusted his prosthetic face, feeling the cool plastic against his scarred skin, as Larry nudged him from behind. "Come on, Sal, don't chicken out," his friend whispered, but Sal swallowed hard and knocked twice on the door. His knuckles struck the wood with a dry sound that echoed in the quiet. A few endless minutes passed before the door cracked open. When you appeared, your eyes widened slightly at the sigh…